


Trickery Mimicry

by gladdecease



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: comment_fic, Gen, Tricksters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:05:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladdecease/pseuds/gladdecease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel makes a terrible trickster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trickery Mimicry

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/131405.html?thread=28432973#t28432973) in response to [amavissem](http://amavissem.livejournal.com)'s prompt: Supernatural, Castiel/Dean, Cas sucks at being a Trickster 'cause he's too nice.

**three times castiel was suspiciously nice for a trickster...**

1

"The guy's lucky he didn't die from the fall," Dean comments to the janitor, looking out the window at the drop. The guy nods, eyes fixed on the windowsill.

"It's a good thing he survived. Maybe he'll have learned a lesson from all this."

Dean shoots him a sideways glance. "What do you mean by that?"

The janitor opens his mouth, then shuts it. "I shouldn't say. He may not be dead, but it's still impolite to speak poorly of others." He looks Dean in the eye, unblinking, and Dean considers bringing up the relative impoliteness of staring at a guy, but he holds up his mop. "I should get back to work. I hope I was able to help."

Dean watches him go, and shoots Sam a look. He nods, and Dean mentally adds the janitor to the 'suspicious guys' list.

2

Sam types halfheartedly for a few seconds, then sighs and shoves his computer away. "I can't do _anything_ with this virus messing up my computer."

Dean, on the other bed, nods his head in time to the radio, only half listening to his brother's complaints. "And the computer geeks you went to have no idea what it is?"

"None!" Sam shakes his head, indignant. "They said they'd never seen anything like it." Pulling out a book he'd grabbed at the library, he adds, "And can't you go out in your car if you want to listen to music? I'm trying to research, and I'd like to be able to concentrate."

Dean shrugs. "Would if I could, but the radio won't pick up anything but static. And," he continues, pointing at Sam before he can interrupt, "the cassette player is jammed."

Sam frowns. Dean goes back to listening to the radio. They sigh. This case is getting to be a pain.

3

"You have any idea what you're looking for?" Dean asks.

"Yes." Dean gives him a look. Reluctantly, Sam admits, "No."

Dean shakes his head, and shines his flashlight on a part of the wall painted to be an optical illusion. He tilts his head, looks confused until he mumbles an " _oh_ " of understanding. Turning away from it, he turns right into the aim of the Spot's owner's gun.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demands.

Dean drops his gun and says something placating. Sam stares at the scene, someone pulling a gun on his brother, and feels something cold clench at his heart. The owner fires, and Sam starts to panic.

Then, everything stops.

Sam blinks. _Everything_ stopped. Dean is mid-blink, there are sparks from the gunpowder hovering in midair - hell, the bullet is hovering too. Sam steps closer, and pokes at it.

"What the hell?"

"You can't do this, Sam," says a voice behind him. Sam spins around, and there - dark hair and blue eyes and all - is the Trickster. Sam gapes for a moment, then what the demigod said strikes him.

"Do what?" he asks. "Let my brother get killed? I've been trying to not do that for a couple months now."

The Trickster shakes his head. "No, not that. You can't let yourself be consumed - with grief, or anger, or vengeance - when your brother dies." He stares at Sam. "He _will_ die, Sam. He can't escape his deal. And if you don't accept it, Dean's sacrifice will have been in vain."

"In _vain_?" Sam squawks.

"He wanted you alive, as you were. A hunt for vengeance will leave you forever altered, Sam. You won't be the man your brother saved."

Sam shakes his head, calling bullshit, when the Trickster does something he's never done before. He touches Sam. Two fingers, right on the forehead, and Sam sees flashes of scenes - of himself, cold and heartless. When it's over, he opens his mouth, shuts it, and opens it again.

"That was only one possible future, Sam," the Trickster explains. "Your obsession with vengeance against Hell and its demons after Dean's death leads you there."

"I - I can't just let him die for me," Sam protests. "Not without doing _something_."

"You have to," the Trickster says. He turns his head slightly, a fond look entering his eyes. Sam follows his gaze to look at Dean, still frozen in time, about to be shot. "But don't worry. Not all death is permanent."

Sam's mouth drops, and he starts to ask what that means, when the Trickster touches his forehead again.

Sam wakes up to Dean singing along to "Heat of the Moment", and it's maybe the best thing he's ever heard.

  


  
  
**...and one time he got caught in the act**   


  


  


"You _knew_ I was gonna come back," Dean says, getting in the Trickster's face. "You knew about the angels. About the Apocalypse."

The Trickster's face is impassive. That kind of shit pisses Dean off, and especially from this guy, so he presses closer and says, "Didn't you?"

He sighs. "And what if I did?"

Dean sputters. "And what if - you can help us!"

The Trickster snorts. "You couldn't pay me to get involved in that fight again."

Dean pauses at that. He looks at Sam, who caught the word too. "Again?" Sam asks.

"What you call the Apocalypse is more like a family reunion for Heaven and Hell. It happens once in a millennium, old sibling rivalries start up old fights, and it all ends in tears." He glances between the Winchesters. "I've been avoiding angels and demons alike since you pulled a Lazarus, Dean."

Dean frowns. "Why?"

The Trickster sighs. "Because I've known since the beginning that you were going to be a part of it. You and your brother, it's like you were custom-made for Michael and Lucifer to fight out their differences in."

Dean makes an angry noise at that custom-made comment, and Sam barely keeps him from doing something stupid like trying to punch a demigod. "If you knew, why didn't you say something?" Sam asks.

"I don't know if you've noticed," the Trickster says, "but this is the _Apocalypse_. It's more than a little hard to believe."

"Oh, I don't know," a female voice says from out of nowhere. The Trickster freezes where he stands, which is... different. Dean keeps an eye on him as he turns to greet the late-coming angel. Anna grins at him, adding, "They seemed to accept the idea easily enough when Uriel told them."

Dean gives an exaggerated relieved sigh. "About time, Anna," he says. "I called you four hours ago, what took so long?"

The rebel angel approaches Dean's side, keeping her eyes on the Trickster. "I was looking for my Father for awhile," she says, "but it was hard to find you. Now I know why." Sam and Dean share a confused look as she approaches the Trickster. She smiles gently. "It's been a long time, Castiel."

"Not as long as you think, Anna," the Trickster says, smiling for the first time Dean can remember. "I noticed you when you fell, and looked in on you when I could. You had a very happy childhood for a reason." Anna smiles, and wraps the Trickster in a hug that he slowly returns.

This is starting to make sense, in a really, _really_ bizarre way. Still, Dean has to ask. "Hold the phone," he says, a hand held out. "Are you saying the Trickster is an _angel_?"

Anna breaks the hug to smile at Dean. "He's the brother I was closest to before I fell," she explains. Dean shoots an accusatory look at... at Castiel, apparently, who rolls his eyes. "Oh, like you would have believed me."

Dean reluctantly concedes the point.

  



End file.
